tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-45705533535614452452024-02-19T09:00:07.466-08:00discovering m.and the journey continues..Discovering Mhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02529618268788605646noreply@blogger.comBlogger41125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4570553353561445245.post-73106987215850679272012-09-28T15:00:00.004-07:002012-09-28T15:00:38.056-07:00lost charm<br />
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I had taken a liking to Reader’s Digest from an early age.
The love affair started when I had visited India during my annual school
holidays and we had stayed at my grandparent’s home in Cherai, Kochi. My
grandpa was a lawyer and was also an avid reader so he had a large collection
of books – but mostly Malayalam. So one day I wandered into his little library
and looked around for something to read and the only ones in English were the
Reader’s Digest magazines dated back to the early seventies. </div>
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The books had been untouched for ages and pages were quite
brittle and about to fall off so I had to be careful with them. Anyway I was
too young to read some of the articles and so I stuck to the one liner jokes that
appear at the bottom of the page randomly and also the ‘all in a days work’. I
used to sit there for hours going through the jokes and a few articles. My mum
noticed that and the next thing she did after getting back to Dubai was fill
out an annual subscription form for Readers’ Digest. Mum is an avid reader as
well but does not have a collection like what grandpa had.</div>
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Over the years ( the eighties and nineties ) the quality of
the Readers Digest has fallen of the cliff. I feel that it just lost its charm.
It has become more of a medical advertisement magazine than anything else. Less
articles, less real life stories and most importantly less quality jokes. They
had just killed the magazine with fold in ads and useless offers and marketing
materials. Lately after a long gap I bought another copy of the Reader’s Digest
and nothing much has changed and sad to say I would not think of buying another
copy ever. In those ninety pages there was probably one article that engrossed
me and not definitely worth the price and time.</div>
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Grandpa passed away a few years back and probably mum has
kept his priceless collection of books. The house got sold and my mum brought
his arm chair and his cot to our new house and has kept it in one of the rooms
just as a remembrance. I am sure it brings back memories for her and it sure
does for me too.</div>
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I long to go back, sit on his arm chair and open up a seventies version of Reader’s Digest again :).</div>
Discovering Mhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02529618268788605646noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4570553353561445245.post-50580338143022939552012-06-16T16:42:00.000-07:002012-06-16T17:07:05.995-07:00The content yellow cabbie - Paré<br />
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We got picked up from the Wesley Hospital after our doctor’s
appointment. “Hop in guys” said the cabbie. I got in the front seat and J
squeezed in to the back of the Toyota Prius. This was my first electric car
ride :). <o:p></o:p></div>
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Soon we were on our way to pick up our car from
service. The Filipino cabbie loved to
talk but I was hoping to just have a quiet ride. Anyway it takes all sorts to
run the world and I was forced to listen.
Turns out that he was interesting to listen to and at the same time a bit
different since he also liked to listen; he would ask meaningful questions and
seemed well informed about the ways of the world business and economics minus
the appropriate business jargon of course. <o:p></o:p></div>
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Anyway after he dropped us off he got me thinking as well.
Over the last two months I had been bitching about how monotonous my
professional life had become as this was the first time that I had taken up a
desk job and I was getting to the point of needing a bit more excitement at my
work place. <o:p></o:p></div>
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Talking about monotonous jobs, my “pare”
cabbie (paré
– Filipino equivalent of the Aussie ‘mate’) has been driving a taxi for a good
part of his 22 years stay in Australia and the surprising part of this is that
he was not bitter at all. He didn’t complain about low wages or traffic jams, high
taxes or rising medical expenses, instead he talked about how he and his wife
had two daughters and that they were going to graduate in the next two years
and how life in Australia has been great. He talked about all the good things
in life. He also talked about the phase in his life when he was jobless but I
guess he accepted that as part of his life’s learning experiences.<o:p></o:p></div>
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Paré
encouraged me to see joy in little things that you have as a part of your life and
not talk and think too much about what you don’t. My old folks in Dubai often remind me of a
quote they have read somewhere.. “If you have a roof over your head, have
access to three square meals a day and if your parents are still married – then
you belong to the top 1% of the fortunate people in the world”.<o:p></o:p></div>
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J writes down a few good things that happenes in her day before she
goes to bed. Whether it is someone who smiled at her in the city or the bus
driver who greeted her… she writes it all down. I might start that too.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>Discovering Mhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02529618268788605646noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4570553353561445245.post-43971975023955423132011-05-13T21:48:00.000-07:002011-05-21T18:12:49.347-07:00Good Friday .. Saturday, Sunday and even a Monday :)<div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="line-height: 115%;">I just had one of the best Easter ever.. We went camping at Fraser Island for a couple of days and it was just brilliant. Four of us, full camping gear, a turbo charged 4.7 litre Nissan Patrol and plenty of spirits.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="line-height: 115%;"><span class="Apple-style-span">After a four hour drive to Rainbow beach we took a ferry to Frasers and then we were in a completely different world all of a sudden. The whole island is a white sand island with natural forests, beaches and freshwater lakes.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div></div><div><br />
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</div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6xMK7Jt-CajLLT_EeY0rxaNcNqzi_0ZYbks_hMN8DU3kHp16fo8-5FvdUvr_E8j0rs_CUMtglcpTZ8clxKYWy5LovCjce8IDh2ZylGy_bzJFyLpm4lgLpPfg_Iahktn8Vmc0g1bbSjYHV/s1600/9.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5606430276484534786" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6xMK7Jt-CajLLT_EeY0rxaNcNqzi_0ZYbks_hMN8DU3kHp16fo8-5FvdUvr_E8j0rs_CUMtglcpTZ8clxKYWy5LovCjce8IDh2ZylGy_bzJFyLpm4lgLpPfg_Iahktn8Vmc0g1bbSjYHV/s320/9.JPG" style="cursor: hand; cursor: pointer; display: block; height: 320px; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; width: 213px;" /></a><br />
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</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="line-height: 115%;">After we arrived, we drove along the beach which was a new experience for me and I was told to be careful about washouts which can be quite dangerous and the sand was very wet in certain areas. I had driven a lot in the deserts of Middle East and was very used to the dunes but this was slightly different. Although not as challenging as the desert driving – this was more fun than dune bashing.</span></div><br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjorAOKKJ0RX4idgD9_vmreOZ6PfvmvWomXy1Ax2Q79TzMZaywj7o9mpOUhIZpBf9UhKzrLVxAVjf5AVwMMGU-PCkpkA-Sbk2SGS-fIVsoAnypg2ENuvC2vDjPqkWqTgZh84p12BPkCGRVO/s1600/8.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"></a><br />
<div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjorAOKKJ0RX4idgD9_vmreOZ6PfvmvWomXy1Ax2Q79TzMZaywj7o9mpOUhIZpBf9UhKzrLVxAVjf5AVwMMGU-PCkpkA-Sbk2SGS-fIVsoAnypg2ENuvC2vDjPqkWqTgZh84p12BPkCGRVO/s1600/8.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5606430268745749490" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjorAOKKJ0RX4idgD9_vmreOZ6PfvmvWomXy1Ax2Q79TzMZaywj7o9mpOUhIZpBf9UhKzrLVxAVjf5AVwMMGU-PCkpkA-Sbk2SGS-fIVsoAnypg2ENuvC2vDjPqkWqTgZh84p12BPkCGRVO/s320/8.JPG" style="cursor: pointer; display: block; height: 235px; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; margin-top: 0px; text-align: left; width: 320px;" /></a><br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEioYAjIQ9x6gCcWejzFmO1at7FuGBjxnZGvyy2EQIi3aVKOgpDTkpMEdxJqOKRvziVB-XlWv2fO4euy6gawZBjhx6FsdjMqH4Uunx8CyPS08waTu2ZOOB2V8EpHEeb-dQskNupDVHxpZUrD/s1600/7.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5606430265988583794" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEioYAjIQ9x6gCcWejzFmO1at7FuGBjxnZGvyy2EQIi3aVKOgpDTkpMEdxJqOKRvziVB-XlWv2fO4euy6gawZBjhx6FsdjMqH4Uunx8CyPS08waTu2ZOOB2V8EpHEeb-dQskNupDVHxpZUrD/s320/7.JPG" style="cursor: hand; cursor: pointer; display: block; height: 162px; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; width: 320px;" /></a></div><div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="line-height: 115%;"><span class="Apple-style-span">We found our way to the camping ground and pitched our tents and set off for the lakes.. This time we had to take the terrain track and this really tested the 4.7 litre engine under the hood. Again a fairly new experience for me... Everyone enjoyed the ride although it was getting dark and we had to get back to our tents soon.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div></div><div><br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhS5Uz4Ml5TdWz6tioXcEBQMkianUx3tTI9UChntxiZ_uT9yew9LtB6KVs056KVs4bIPc5vK_jfQYPrNU-E6Q8JtqIW5DbtN_dxKxzQJqSWWMLFrQNUfIyUwKTkvWLP417ZEAg02OWjGhTP/s1600/6.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5606430259728887858" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhS5Uz4Ml5TdWz6tioXcEBQMkianUx3tTI9UChntxiZ_uT9yew9LtB6KVs056KVs4bIPc5vK_jfQYPrNU-E6Q8JtqIW5DbtN_dxKxzQJqSWWMLFrQNUfIyUwKTkvWLP417ZEAg02OWjGhTP/s320/6.JPG" style="cursor: hand; cursor: pointer; display: block; height: 213px; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; width: 320px;" /></a><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><br />
</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span"><span style="line-height: 115%;">We rolled out the cooking gear and sat around the stove to keep ourselves warm and after a lot of wine and food we changed the focus to ghost stories and J gets the creeps with anything related to the supernatural. And to add to the creepiness we were pitched next to a tree, the kind we find in the scary movies. Since there was not much lighting around there were a lot of stars visible in the sky – had never seen so many even when I had spent countless nights in the desert staring at them. Like they say there is something about the sky down under</span><span style="line-height: 115%;">.</span></span></div><div><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><br />
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</span></span><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEisREekhMhfx_61mvV4gWgjCgyFWIQDIwnMei_4QfV9lFER3YLKzkPelsAISWtZpJse-Og-pXO-x0PHYw6q3qimhLs5n3AgXCN7NkbP4poScUF96ZeV5o5Wh0R7zKxmGv9JVtYb8pBdw-NO/s1600/5.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5606429805434966066" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEisREekhMhfx_61mvV4gWgjCgyFWIQDIwnMei_4QfV9lFER3YLKzkPelsAISWtZpJse-Og-pXO-x0PHYw6q3qimhLs5n3AgXCN7NkbP4poScUF96ZeV5o5Wh0R7zKxmGv9JVtYb8pBdw-NO/s320/5.JPG" style="cursor: hand; cursor: pointer; display: block; height: 320px; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; width: 213px;" /></a></div><div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="line-height: 115%;"><span class="Apple-style-span">Next day we set off early and drove along the beach to the famous Maheno Wreck and spent time taking pictures and all along the way we stopped at natural bodies of water, dipped in the beach, played a round of cricket ( yes we brought cricket gear too ). It was good full all the way. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><br />
</span></div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgegs2jObocTUa1YXKe4oQAOW8Y1U7SnGxx3IHzizuOjcsADRYrBZ8ZUzIl4FmOI5uvCyEijSLJUR_kVWA3Dr9xCUwatbCIr5vUJtDHRMGZXjkgOQrLTBbK6VVXQEai8Y_eaPPownpmh-MY/s1600/4.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5606429802145589266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgegs2jObocTUa1YXKe4oQAOW8Y1U7SnGxx3IHzizuOjcsADRYrBZ8ZUzIl4FmOI5uvCyEijSLJUR_kVWA3Dr9xCUwatbCIr5vUJtDHRMGZXjkgOQrLTBbK6VVXQEai8Y_eaPPownpmh-MY/s320/4.jpg" style="cursor: hand; cursor: pointer; display: block; height: 213px; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; width: 320px;" /></a><br />
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</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="line-height: 115%;"><span class="Apple-style-span">Then we went inland through a rough terrain track to get to Lake McKenzie which is the deepest fresh water lake there. The water was amazing and swimming in lakes is much better than in the sea. We spent hours there trying all sorts of fun stuff like synchronised swimming, holding breath competition followed by beers :)<o:p></o:p></span></span></div></div><div><br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwe8gE7wspnq78csNuQwe7ehDpH8b1XjvWJqzaYlulg1EeH_UzoWaP2QQ66ksby39iwLrFJx-Gww45zpaqrb2gY4Ae_pauwTrA4L4GKpSCFUr9EiVIwYpe92BTvOa5g8RJXxNVTi1BmEK5/s1600/3.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5606429797397614658" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwe8gE7wspnq78csNuQwe7ehDpH8b1XjvWJqzaYlulg1EeH_UzoWaP2QQ66ksby39iwLrFJx-Gww45zpaqrb2gY4Ae_pauwTrA4L4GKpSCFUr9EiVIwYpe92BTvOa5g8RJXxNVTi1BmEK5/s320/3.JPG" style="cursor: hand; cursor: pointer; display: block; height: 320px; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; width: 213px;" /></a><br />
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</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="line-height: 115%;"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span">Then after more of terrain driving we got back to the camping grounds for another night under the stars, wine, bbq and a game of monopoly.. This monopoly had Australian cities as properties. We were pretty upset as there was no Brisbane Station ( though there were Sydney, Melbourne, Adelaide and Perth ). Wonder if there is an Indian edition of Monopoly with Kochi as a station:-P</span><o:p></o:p></span></span></div></div><div><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5NSxGE_5uvRvh3xOQqpONhjemGfSh850oU3jdkLZfkpG7uLWbTcpsfXWWLnyQcj-vAkkykHRVbaIwWtetirzQGNkHiMPW5pI7Lj4jjMtGvYL4ZPqFQ8h8adnoA9TcMobthokNY2NY-zZn/s1600/2.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5606429794903895746" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5NSxGE_5uvRvh3xOQqpONhjemGfSh850oU3jdkLZfkpG7uLWbTcpsfXWWLnyQcj-vAkkykHRVbaIwWtetirzQGNkHiMPW5pI7Lj4jjMtGvYL4ZPqFQ8h8adnoA9TcMobthokNY2NY-zZn/s320/2.JPG" style="cursor: hand; cursor: pointer; display: block; height: 320px; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; width: 240px;" /></a></div><div><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><br />
</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span"><span style="line-height: 115%;">Next day was all gloomy as it was the trip back home.. So we did a bit of driving around in the morning then packed up our gears and set off for our return journey. All in all it was a great experience would love to </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 18px;">do it again sometime may be to a different island or maybe head to the mountains for a ch</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 18px;">ange.</span></span></div><div><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjju2th_18qCtAGQ7syutWrALtreSe6fluCKm1hqTB0HOYOXrggeFsjlm8wqDJUvIGnUKjeCBPhZX-h5TYZAhyphenhyphendtje33Uh97X5TX7MtbRCN4PAlI5j0VRfXvNjwLgKk24sRZf3nWHQ-Kyrl/s1600/1.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5606429784243520690" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjju2th_18qCtAGQ7syutWrALtreSe6fluCKm1hqTB0HOYOXrggeFsjlm8wqDJUvIGnUKjeCBPhZX-h5TYZAhyphenhyphendtje33Uh97X5TX7MtbRCN4PAlI5j0VRfXvNjwLgKk24sRZf3nWHQ-Kyrl/s320/1.JPG" style="cursor: hand; cursor: pointer; display: block; height: 320px; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; width: 213px;" /></a></div>Discovering Mhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02529618268788605646noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4570553353561445245.post-36623004415551767342011-03-08T00:57:00.001-08:002011-03-08T13:36:53.989-08:00Michael Kasparov ?The MBA classes are going great so far except for the fact that I have already dropped a subject from my over ambitious plan. I like my weekends to be weekends :) and don’t want them to be spent in a class room. So yeah no more weekend classes.<br /><br />Often in the class we have these group discussions where you have to randomly form a group and introduce yourself and chat about a topic that is posted on the board and it was on one of these sessions that I came across this very familiar looking Aussie bloke. Finally I figured he looks like a cricketer from the Australian team and I thought I should tell him that. So I said hello and introduced myself and he asked me what I do and where I live etc. He told me that he does some coaching on and off and used to play a bit of sport etc etc.. Oh sports !! that got me talking and I asked him what his sport is and who he coaches .. and he says “I am not sure of you have heard of the Mumbai Indians.. I am their bowling coach” And I go “ So you are Michael Kasprowicz.. aren’t you ? “ He nods with a smile.. Ha you should have seen the excitement on my face as this is the first time I am meeting a sports personality. I mean WOW.. Out of the blue I ask him.. So you have met Tendulkar ?? .. oh damn.. What a silly question.. He said of course yes ( with a ..’what a weirdo’ look on his face ) .. and then we talked about how he is also the Australian Goodwill Ambassador to India and he is interested in building relations etc ..<br /><br />I get back home after class and wake up J who was half asleep and told her that Michael Kasprowicz was in class with me.. and she goes Michael Who ? Oh damn.. no one to share my excitement here.. so I call up my dad in Dubai who is a diehard cricket fan.. woke him up from his sleep.. and he goes.. oh yea WOW nice.. isn’t he the South African Rugby player ?? That conversation didn’t last long.. Went online and found my brother in law in Delhi on Skype and I immediately called him and broke the news to him.. and he goes.. “ WOW bro – it’s really cool to have a chess player in your class.. Michael Kasparov” Okay this is not going well at all. All my excitement wore off in a matter of minutes. J couldn’t help laughing at all this.. and finally I rang up another friend of mine in Brisbane and told him..” oh yea btw there is this Aussie cricketer who no one’s heard of in my class.. called Kasper”.. and he goes – WOW.. Kasper is actually in your class? Did you shake hands? What did he say.. I mean thats AWESOME! And then we went of to discuss ashes and the famous Brisbane tests and how Tendulkar belted him etc etc.. but had to say he was a damn good bowler at his peak as he used to bowl alongside the likes of McGrath who was the best seamer in the world.<br /><br />I was so glad that I could share my excitement with someone that night. Also since Kasper is good friends with Tendulkar I am hoping that I can coax Kasper into introducing me to my legendary hero next time he visits Queensland :)<br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJUE5DrgDKTi-37IxjdHwkkI2KfAVOso7addEvS9dRbX0GW7vRZQmkjZKjFtRf2dnlnZeFopYKfD-BgKrWFDZwof1IxYwtb1X1AYFeyXYthIwF2B-ltUkwLVzjB2OUy8M9qWMpeIPZqihL/s1600/photo.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJUE5DrgDKTi-37IxjdHwkkI2KfAVOso7addEvS9dRbX0GW7vRZQmkjZKjFtRf2dnlnZeFopYKfD-BgKrWFDZwof1IxYwtb1X1AYFeyXYthIwF2B-ltUkwLVzjB2OUy8M9qWMpeIPZqihL/s320/photo.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5581630804848302818" /></a><br /><div><br /></div><div><br /></div>Discovering Mhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02529618268788605646noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4570553353561445245.post-70114413818555959272011-02-24T04:41:00.000-08:002011-02-24T04:50:18.994-08:00OMG !!<div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div>What am I doing here? I don’t belong here! Can I still withdraw ? Will there be a penalty? .. these were the thoughts that were running through my head as I entered the waiting area for the orientation session for new students of MBA at the University of Queensland Business School.<br /><br />As I entered there were three men and a lady all suited up to kill and typing away on their PDAs. One of them glanced over as I entered and sized me up with a what are you doing here look. May be I should mention that I was in a pair of jeans and a shirt but I think I was presentable. Hmm.. I felt intimidated at their corporate like activities and was wishing deep inside that they are not my co students. Should I shake hands? Say hello? I really didn’t know – so I let it be and when and sat down in the waiting area cursing myself for not dressing appropriately.<br /><br />My thoughts immediately turned trivial as the lift opened and in came a spikey haired 20 something guy with jeans well below his bum and a shabby T-Shirt and more like announced to the secretary that he is here for the orientation. *phew* At least I have a proper shirt on :)<br /><br />More students strolled in all casually dressed and towards the end it was the suited up corporate wannabees that felt out of place :) .. And the classes got away, a lot of mingling, chit chatting etc etc went on for a whole two hours and all of a sudden I felt a lot more comfortable. We talked about work and family and travel and rising expenses. Most of the students were sponsored by the company except for me who might get approval for expensing my car parking charges let alone my tuition fees. Yes I am paying through my @!@#hole for this over rated course. Really hoping to god that this is worth the time, effort and money.<br /><br />J has been all supportive of me doing a part time course and made sure I had a new notepad and pen and she even gave me her HP Mini for my classes. Last night we called up her parents and my parents and my grandmother just to let them know that tomorrow is my first day back to Uni after eleven odd years. Granny as usual already set her hope high all over again asking me to top the class and bring glory to the family. I wasn’t surprised. But then what caught me out was that when she was speaking to J ( oblivious to the fact that she was on speaker ) she mentioned to her that I am a total bum when it comes to studying and to keep an eye on me. J agreed trying to suppress her giggles. Hmm.. I guess granny just wanted to encourage me with all this talk about ranks but she knew exactly what I was capable of.<div><br />Anyway I thought I’ll just blog about this special day. Two years from now I shall post a picture of me from my graduation ceremony :) and secretly hoping to prove granny wrong as far as my performance goes!<div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5WTJ_ncivQA0-0K-R_mpt8BMPCAYIhvUbVWDl3voVNnjdQnDLNoyDcwhKT1XNvnNGIl4JS70TJ-cKlz3m74hW7Go_557tUC6HTJMZPU0yaAO1tQttUz4_F16HiSInbs6S5gOge8TTz8VE/s320/UQ+Logo+Compressed.jpg" style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 160px; height: 70px;" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5577236432184305378" /></div></div>Discovering Mhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02529618268788605646noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4570553353561445245.post-22655975726210519612011-02-12T00:48:00.000-08:002011-02-12T00:55:28.343-08:00wet wet wetEver since we landed in Brisbane people at work has been telling me about the great floods of Brisbane over the last century. On one instance they even showed me the flood lever marker showing the level of water reached at each of the floods. Most of the conversations ended up with ..”oh well we won’t have to worry about them floods anymore .. cos we have the Weivenhoe Dam..” and since I have heard that statement over and over I really didn’t worry much even on the morning of the day when the floods actually hit us.<br /><br />The floods covered the basement, ground and the first floor of our apartments, but we were safe and sound on the fourth. Although at that time we didn’t feel all that safe as we saw the water rising up by the hour. Just when we thought it had stopped rising and things are going to get back to normal soon – the power went out and warnings of a king tide was out. But luckily we had seen the worst of it by then.<br />Here are some pictures from our suburb – luckily no one was hurt and during the whole “flood” experience, we made some new friends in our apartment building and learned to support each other during the testing period. Thanks also to our friends with whom we spent a few days till the flood waters receded.<br /><br />Now Brisbane is almost back to normal thanks to a no holes barred effort from the Queensland government and more importantly the helping mentality of fellow Queenslanders. I was completely taken out by the amount of voluntary workers that registered and showed up for cleaning up the city.. “our city” as I would now like to call it. We did our part too we were out cleaning up the basement with the rest of the tenants, also donated a decent amount for the Premiers Flood Donation.<br /><br />This is the first time that I have seen a whole country come together for help when it was needed. And it was not just talk but actually coming out and getting their hands dirty so that your neighbour has an easier time cleaning up his backyard.<br /><br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9vhLCvkkE8tpnVtTDg0PPlnhJEo7lHdwdOiJXz-2Fd5ZVHM9bqPVw2kLs9N5g3xOZyF3g7eNTq5T_b1-yZn37KEYBdg-1lkBZh6QcZKMMWEl42flT-RqhIXL5wyp0Cap_Z6mRglBxvQXU/s1600/IMAG0225.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 214px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 320px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5572722890000508018" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9vhLCvkkE8tpnVtTDg0PPlnhJEo7lHdwdOiJXz-2Fd5ZVHM9bqPVw2kLs9N5g3xOZyF3g7eNTq5T_b1-yZn37KEYBdg-1lkBZh6QcZKMMWEl42flT-RqhIXL5wyp0Cap_Z6mRglBxvQXU/s320/IMAG0225.jpg" /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhrtwSddQzVpvRggffLz6rvAZm2g8qN_YwUuobGXz5R2fP0ukfYrOI4cddcj6OHWhuFDbd6JFqnPbqr_TzKGh1_WZr5-GPOR-9NdT2rQOo86wxuav654CpbMpLjdcMt1cIrMx1BKF_Uhl5G/s1600/IMAG0221.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 214px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5572722881490428402" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhrtwSddQzVpvRggffLz6rvAZm2g8qN_YwUuobGXz5R2fP0ukfYrOI4cddcj6OHWhuFDbd6JFqnPbqr_TzKGh1_WZr5-GPOR-9NdT2rQOo86wxuav654CpbMpLjdcMt1cIrMx1BKF_Uhl5G/s320/IMAG0221.jpg" /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3E4EfA4_CjjclUEx94MuH_hjn6TJrKddomXnkvQc0JMhXeEsHH4PMj92AsMDSUN0Ap8FWmXpQoLKI781wlqSpbN8iY7wl_Q8M5kPPasr003Q_wjpX6giJM1CPvhIxRee-W_t6OfQNk86r/s1600/IMAG0219.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 214px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5572722876412478082" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3E4EfA4_CjjclUEx94MuH_hjn6TJrKddomXnkvQc0JMhXeEsHH4PMj92AsMDSUN0Ap8FWmXpQoLKI781wlqSpbN8iY7wl_Q8M5kPPasr003Q_wjpX6giJM1CPvhIxRee-W_t6OfQNk86r/s320/IMAG0219.jpg" /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdNYFL_tiUIx3hvBsdg7JlYPkGwA414cvc6HuibpAsYRT8PCBS5-qFBG9GcV218plBloWSZZyxjYxopgCYdzfAa4ymY9wWEUyBMcomRbo6sQZetMpaEMSbTEG71MPbr2f9DDed-_Q0njJd/s1600/IMAG0216.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 214px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5572722867285120786" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdNYFL_tiUIx3hvBsdg7JlYPkGwA414cvc6HuibpAsYRT8PCBS5-qFBG9GcV218plBloWSZZyxjYxopgCYdzfAa4ymY9wWEUyBMcomRbo6sQZetMpaEMSbTEG71MPbr2f9DDed-_Q0njJd/s320/IMAG0216.jpg" /></a><br /><br /><br />As I am writing this post there are cyclone warnings out in the north of Queensland – but I am not a least bit worried. When you are in a community like this there is nothing to worry. Cyclone ?? I would say “bring it on...”Discovering Mhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02529618268788605646noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4570553353561445245.post-67095767220574360902010-09-25T17:48:00.000-07:002010-09-25T18:04:17.433-07:00Socially Un-NetworkedBack from a holiday to Dubai and India - visited parents, relatives and friends and dined, drank and laughed at old jokes and new. Two weeks just flew past and here I am back in Brisbane with some good memories and a massive jet lag. Back to work - but I guess what are sick days for after all :-P<br /><br />Last month J was all excited about her first trip back home after marriage and was happily shopping for little things to take back for everyone, basically just small mementos or fridge magnets or stuffed toys for all her little cousins. We had different classifications such as “gift cousins”, “chocolate cousins”, “only a phone call cousins” and “lets meet them next time cousins”, making sure she didn’t miss out anyone etc etc.. In the mean time she had also announced her countdown to the start of the holiday on Facebook. Not much time passed before she was contacted by various ‘friends’ here at Brisbane with a list of things that they wanted to be brought back from India. She being ever obliging agreed unwillingly. Pretty soon after the list was compiled our trip was ending up like a delivery service. Even wondered if we should change over from Emirates to DHL Super Jumbo.. hmm. We had people coming over and dropping things off for us to take to Dubai and extremely pushy offers to be dropped off and picked up from the airport. Finally I had enough and put my foot down and said I am not brining in anything from Dubai or India. We had one set of guys who had their two year old son call us up and ask us if we could bring him the milk powder from Kerala – and this was after some heavy prompting from his pushy mum in the background. The extend some people go to is unbelievable *sigh*<br /><br />It has been two weeks since we got back and there is no news from our milk powder friends. The book that they also requested for, which required me driving down to a different village in India at 10 PM at night through what seemed a ghost town in order for me to pick up, is still lying here at our home in Brisbane. I guess it wasn’t that urgent at all. Oh well..<br /><br />Soon we got alerts in email with “you were tagged” on FB. So there were caught having fun with some of our friends who we had met during the short trip. This left the others friends who are also on facebook, wondering why we didn’t bother visiting them or giving them a ring, let alone take picture with them. Wonder if we will hear from them again. And to top it all off one of them even tagged us in a picture of a stuffed toy we had gifted their kids with a caption “from J with love”. This must have left some impression on the other “non gift” friends and in Kerala this is enough material for starting a family feud.<br /><br />So I guess we have been socially un networked from a few friends…<br /><br /><br /><p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2JXkK_IU-M8FT8PKztYg5vDlPkLDmjbaERfLnvZX90z5KBJC_y9g3Lzhei0ZEql0ktrzj0dGiC2gmG8EGYslfnCvuLoCdBwfwjdRaAN53uPuYK1Zd2MOvyav5bWS97Xi-4vEBS7HKf41d/s1600/facebook.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 152px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5521019097179110114" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2JXkK_IU-M8FT8PKztYg5vDlPkLDmjbaERfLnvZX90z5KBJC_y9g3Lzhei0ZEql0ktrzj0dGiC2gmG8EGYslfnCvuLoCdBwfwjdRaAN53uPuYK1Zd2MOvyav5bWS97Xi-4vEBS7HKf41d/s320/facebook.jpg" /></a><br /><br />I read an interesting article about Mark Zuckerberg who had to pay USD 65 million to keep a bunch of uni students quiet about them claiming that he stole their idea while working together on a same project. Apparently Mark delayed the project they were working on and in the meantime launched Facebook which had a striking similarity. Difference they called it “dating” and Mark called it “networking”. Talk about play with words. </p><p><br />And the other talk of the town is the commonwealth games about which the less said the better. </p><p></p>Discovering Mhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02529618268788605646noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4570553353561445245.post-61571312202550367972010-07-27T21:34:00.000-07:002010-07-27T21:36:06.607-07:00Old Habits Die Hard !.. or do they ?<p class="MsoNormal">Sitting on the front porch in an arm chair was one of granny’s favourite pastimes. Not that the view was great – but she loved all the attention she got from passersby who would greet her by calling her “chechi” – as in elder sister in Malayalam. So thirty something men and women who lived in the neighbourhood addressing her by “chechi<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>did wonders to her ego, and you can actually see her face light up. She even mentioned casually to me about how the whole village thinks she looks so young for her age. I usually have the “no comments” look on my face when someone’s ego does the talking. Also she thought of this as an opportunity to catch up on the various gossips that float around in the village. Over the years it became hard to imagine our home without granny on the front porch trying to grab some attention.</p> <p class="MsoNormal">Years later I found out that the tradition still continued when I came back to India after high school to write the Kerala State Entrance Exam. Preparations were on full swing with me signing up for entrance exam coaching which involved trips to town where the classes were held – and this immediately opened up possibilities of exploring the numerous movie theatres around town. It was just a matter of running into the right group of friends ( or “mites” as Aussies would call them :-P ) before we started seeing a movie every other day. Also this was when I got introduced to the world of dodgy noon shows .. don’t let me get into that now. </p> <p class="MsoNormal">So soon the talk of the village was “mon ( a not so cute name for son in Mallu ) and his entrance exams” thanks to granny and her gossip friends. So every morning she would make announcements to passersby on how well “mons’s” preps are going for entrance exams and how he is hoping to score a good rank. My mum who knew better would try to shut her up but in vain. This became a regular routine for a month..</p> <p class="MsoNormal">After a month of solid preparations the big day arrived. The Kerala State Entrance Exam! and granny decided to accompany me to the exam centre. We started off in her white Ambassador with Mercedes Benz wheel caps (Yes! granny had a souped up car). She asked the driver to slow down at every house nearby so she could inform them that “mon” is off to write the exam today. I was in the front seat trying to hide my face in embarrassment, one, because I hated being referred to as “mon” and second because I had a vague idea about how the results would turn out. I slid down in my seat as far as I could.</p> <p class="MsoNormal">What I loved the most about entrance exams was the fact that they were all multiple choice and I had one in four chances to get it right and with my common sense I could narrow it down to one in three which I thought was pretty good.</p> <p class="MsoNormal">Soon the results were going to be out and I was busy trying to find colleges in Bangalore because that was further away from home and Blore was much more a happening place than Kerala. Granny had taken down my registration number so she can check the results in the local newspaper first thing in the morning as she is usually up before sun rise. On judgement day I got up late as usual and came out to the front porch to have coffee and get some fresh air... but something seemed wrong! The chair was empty. Granny was nowhere to be seen.</p> <p class="MsoNormal">Apparently I managed to get a rank of 4000 something in the entrance exam in a world where anything above 1000 was considered pretty crappy and I would not get into any of the decent colleges. I already had Bangalore in sight. What I had done with my performance was break Granny’s 15 year old habit of sitting on the porch and gossiping away to glory. To save face she had to stay indoors for a few days and make limited appearances in public till all the talk of the entrance exams died out.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>I noticed on a few occasions how she avoided any talk remotely related to academics lest the question of entrance exams and “mon’s” rank came up. Those were tough times for poor old lady.</p> <p class="MsoNormal">“Mon” did finally attend an Engineering College and he even managed to roller coaster his way through attaining a BTech within the allotted four years. Both of granny’s daughters were brilliant in studies and were rank holders frequently during their academic life, so I do sympathize with grandmother as none of her grand children lived up to her expectations. One passed away a while back at the age of 24, another one has taken solace in religion and finally the prodigal ‘grand’son, somewhere down under, has limited achievements that she can boast off sitting in that arm chair in front of the house. The fatted calf survives.</p>Discovering Mhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02529618268788605646noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4570553353561445245.post-34996055853284518262010-07-22T15:39:00.001-07:002010-07-22T16:46:05.729-07:00back again ..<div><br /></div><div>This is probably the longest period that I haven't blogged for since I started blogging an year or so ago. I guess marriage, Australia and settling down kept me quite busy. I have got in to a rhythm now and so I am trying to find some time start blogging regularly again - and to actually read the blogs of a few other fellow bloggers I had started to follow a while back..<div><br /></div><div>I have heard that marriage changes people quite a lot and now experiencing it live. I guess it changes women more than the men and its true in my case as well. J has turned from a junk food loving, shopaholic, FB addict, carefree university student into a completely new person. Now we hardly eat from out as we (she) cooks at home on a daily basis, spends less on clothes and her FB status gets changed once a month as opposed to hourly updates. When we browse around at shopping malls, more than DKNY and CK she gets attracted to Robin's Kitchen and the crockery sections at Target. How things change.. that too in a few months.</div><div><br /></div><div>I like to think that I have changed myself as well.. but have to admit not as much as her. I try and help clean up the house, help in cooking, watch romantic movies with her *sigh*, and gave up on alcohol ( if red wine at social dinners does not count ;). I come home early, do not bring work home at all.. little things that help us be happy, I try to do. Oh Wait I got one more.. I returned Band of Brothers back to my colleague without watching it because J hates bloody war scenes ( okay now I am struggling to find ways in which I have changed :p ).</div><div><br /></div><div>Anyway the only conflict we have is my two nights of playing soccer with the boys every week.. Although she seems pretty cool about it, I am sure she would rather I spend the time with her :-P which explains the sudden headaches or back pain she picks up on Friday afternoons :-P. Whenever we get together with friends for dinner or gatherings, the wifes are all conspiring to keep the boys at home on soccer nights and share ideas on how toe accomplish the mission. They discuss drastic measures like plan to go on a shopping spree as long as we play soccer, or no home made food and a few other things.. etc etc ..and the thoughts are getting more evil week by week.</div><div><br /></div><div>But on the other hand we do spned a lot of time together and also made a few sightseeing tours to Gold Coast, Sunshine Coast, Sydney and Wollongong.. I love Australia. Also got ourselves a new car - "golfie" as she likes to call it. So we spend a lot of time driving around .. Here are some pics from the places we visited.</div></div><div><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div><br /></div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFkrvLmI0aSu0nveBQFdcH6YpdAxgviNYeCPCiyMwc2mRr3hc0pl-56Na9WuI49sXwoP1Ucb9ezrITrswasYMnrICg7cPGHPJ-rH4Lk-EH1spDzdr62JTLA5ZZh5-8v0Rk0vEkzw1LbIvt/s1600/_DSC4280.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 267px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFkrvLmI0aSu0nveBQFdcH6YpdAxgviNYeCPCiyMwc2mRr3hc0pl-56Na9WuI49sXwoP1Ucb9ezrITrswasYMnrICg7cPGHPJ-rH4Lk-EH1spDzdr62JTLA5ZZh5-8v0Rk0vEkzw1LbIvt/s400/_DSC4280.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5496876410306819650" /></a><div style="text-align: center;">Wollongong</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-QR-xFdxbbfMu8K6cyBEQ7gOTHgz5avyciNXz_ZbDmif6PJ_b5qkakYlZaEcpjhnVaD8Yz4hyphenhyphenMvvh-LBzcoqdsfnnMctze4d0-Pp4DP3fHHTuuKUEPeVZ8fcFkzi22jawEsRaZRujXUpx/s1600/_DSC4494.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 266px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-QR-xFdxbbfMu8K6cyBEQ7gOTHgz5avyciNXz_ZbDmif6PJ_b5qkakYlZaEcpjhnVaD8Yz4hyphenhyphenMvvh-LBzcoqdsfnnMctze4d0-Pp4DP3fHHTuuKUEPeVZ8fcFkzi22jawEsRaZRujXUpx/s400/_DSC4494.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5496876394666280722" /></a><div style="text-align: center;">Sydney</div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjrfFTRh66mfLiQI_qwhm8KrM1aAlgzchFxN2eT7-oARGt4bNQ9JqwwEK-2lR2hBjgw5VBhfS1_F00NLbED3LnYYeVSgaYrr1peBzhlYmae_-C1NlttftOpdPK9M723zxY2TuvJh-EiKuci/s1600/_DSC4508.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 266px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjrfFTRh66mfLiQI_qwhm8KrM1aAlgzchFxN2eT7-oARGt4bNQ9JqwwEK-2lR2hBjgw5VBhfS1_F00NLbED3LnYYeVSgaYrr1peBzhlYmae_-C1NlttftOpdPK9M723zxY2TuvJh-EiKuci/s400/_DSC4508.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5496876387950361010" /></a><div style="text-align: center;">Harbor Bridge</div></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiD2P9I915wCgWTWjuX_eQPKwUxvGG7S48OurUasuCZ7sBsxWNgKGw-caXLfuU0u9aMMr7fepZ2QsMDkK4NGaYYHLEcsr9Wwh8lRmvCm7i60XSlQ1EbEGZmTRMij1VlGFJGLNBptn1uuF2Q/s1600/29928_398502971291_512006291_4809823_1456972_n.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 299px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiD2P9I915wCgWTWjuX_eQPKwUxvGG7S48OurUasuCZ7sBsxWNgKGw-caXLfuU0u9aMMr7fepZ2QsMDkK4NGaYYHLEcsr9Wwh8lRmvCm7i60XSlQ1EbEGZmTRMij1VlGFJGLNBptn1uuF2Q/s400/29928_398502971291_512006291_4809823_1456972_n.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5496876374363011250" /></a><div style="text-align: center;">Golfie :)</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTeje86o3YNt_1DQIohe2DbHOOmkwNB4Rmuh7gUuSvyR3B0tuoMVwWSBJWe7xiI5QaiGnspPIUBD-2XbAe04h9wO9h6zn0fClEWepGsg_qEgw0ELu0O2o6L22ORKg18cpWhq0y8KcaJNRS/s400/salmon.jpg" /></div><div style="text-align: center;">From J's Kitchen</div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>:)</div></div><div><br /></div>Discovering Mhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02529618268788605646noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4570553353561445245.post-63256020819406351452010-03-14T03:06:00.000-07:002010-03-14T03:16:28.776-07:00Greetings!!<div><br /></div><div><p class="MsoNormal">Settling down in this new town is taking longer than expected, but the excitement is still there and the ways of life in Australia still amazes me. I am liking it so far. Things here are so organized and there are rules and regulations for every little thing which a good amount of people follow - be it a little social etiquette or a government policy.</p><p class="MsoNormal">Today J hunted down a mallu store on the other side of town and we decided to have a drive down there and shop for some Kerala stuff ( 50 % of which are coconut related products :-P ). Anyway we finally reach there and the owner himself is at the cashiers and is a mallu himself ( no surprises there ). So we say hello.. and he shoots right away -</p><p class="MsoListParagraphCxSpFirst" style="text-indent: -0.25in; "><span style="font-family:Calibri;"><span>1.</span></span><br />1. Are you on a PR ? ( whatever happened to “how are you doing” or “good after noon” )</p><p class="MsoListParagraphCxSpLast" style="text-indent: -0.25in; "><span style="font-family:Calibri;"><span>2.<span style="font: normal normal normal 7pt/normal 'Times New Roman'; "> </span></span></span><br />2. Is your wife a nurse? (huh?? where did that come from ? )</p><p class="MsoNormal">I was all taken aback but J seemed pretty cool as she is already used to all these questions.. So I guess that’s the way mallus introduce each other.. So my introduction from now on is going to be “Hi I am so and so I don’t have a PR and my wife isn’t a nurse” :-P. Jokes apart – mallu store was a relief for us as we can now we can prepare mallu eshtyle food at home :)))))))))))).</p><p class="MsoNormal">Hopefully we find a place to move into by next week and settle in and still have some beans left in the bank :-P. Australia is an expensive place.</p><p class="MsoNormal">Got a pre paid Virgin Mobile connection and found the instructions pretty intimidating .. <span style="font-family: Wingdings; font-family:Wingdings;"><span style="font-family:Wingdings;">J</span></span> So I thought I will share it on the blog.</p></div><div><br /></div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6e8WHletJAToBJPOOtz3NXieU1NTVOpbgGDiylMbJ4zRKfguaG4IyNmb6SGi_fuVxYONt2tsV9_VRMAcBmrK9UZRxzqSUhJTVJ5KFvW7-bEns0mv15l1sY8qTxOcC9bMvJXagI1Iz9vzo/s1600-h/IMAG0043.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 268px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6e8WHletJAToBJPOOtz3NXieU1NTVOpbgGDiylMbJ4zRKfguaG4IyNmb6SGi_fuVxYONt2tsV9_VRMAcBmrK9UZRxzqSUhJTVJ5KFvW7-bEns0mv15l1sY8qTxOcC9bMvJXagI1Iz9vzo/s400/IMAG0043.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5448429792262391378" /></a><br /><p class="MsoNormal"><br /></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:Wingdings;mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri;mso-ascii-theme-font:minor-latin;mso-hansi-font-family:Calibri; mso-hansi-theme-font:minor-latin;mso-char-type:symbol;mso-symbol-font-family:Wingdings;"><span style="mso-char-type:symbol;mso-symbol-font-family:Wingdings;">J</span></span></p>Discovering Mhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02529618268788605646noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4570553353561445245.post-79385902145540925552010-03-07T03:00:00.000-08:002010-03-07T04:20:59.299-08:00Love Aaj KalHaven’t blogged for ages as I was busy getting an extreme makeover - new life partner, new job profile and on top of that transfer to a new location.<div><br /></div><div><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3V6iAzAILvCr847MT80tA-Pr0JyOqPXz4m0r9HmJx0uw_Df6AsnwjuZOe5gRYcgXkNs_6kWyTKDQtx_HUAITtxcb0vl516BSMxIXLRw_XyN26L5Tull1JLBSwfiyCFVwYAGKVsNuGn-za/s1600-h/_DSC1380.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 266px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3V6iAzAILvCr847MT80tA-Pr0JyOqPXz4m0r9HmJx0uw_Df6AsnwjuZOe5gRYcgXkNs_6kWyTKDQtx_HUAITtxcb0vl516BSMxIXLRw_XyN26L5Tull1JLBSwfiyCFVwYAGKVsNuGn-za/s400/_DSC1380.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5445863462328249282" /></a><p class="MsoNormal"><br /></p> <p class="MsoNormal">In the modern world falling in love over the internet is considered quite common but I never thought it would happen to me. We had met once a year ago under our parents arranged “supervision” but nothing fruitful came of it as we both were pretty much busy with our lives, she more so as she had enrolled for a second masters and had a year to go. Nine months passed before we exchanged out first email and then there was no looking back (100 emails a day and gazillion text messages and phone calls and facebooking). Finally after two months of online courtship she said “yes”.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>And we decided to get married the coming month.</p> <p class="MsoNormal">Marriage was a quite one with only us, our parents, her brother and her cousin. Yes the guest list was kept to a minimum to avoid unwanted hassles of inviting the most distant of relatives and them ending up upset as we didn’t chase up our visit with a phone call the day before marriage to invite them again.. People in Kerala will know exactly what I am talking about. Most relatives consider a marriage as a perfect foundation to start a family feud. Anyway let me not get into that. Marriage went off super cool at Mookambika temple and then a drive back to our home town on Trichur. In fourteen days we visited all of our relatives and 12 temples and were all set to leave Kerala.</p> <p class="MsoNormal">Flew to Dubai and then next two weeks were spent me showing off Dubai to her as this was like my home town – she wasn’t that impressed <span style="font-family:Wingdings;mso-ascii-font-family:Calibri;mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin;mso-hansi-font-family:Calibri;mso-hansi-theme-font:minor-latin; mso-char-type:symbol;mso-symbol-font-family:Wingdings;"><span style="mso-char-type: symbol;mso-symbol-font-family:Wingdings;">L</span></span> Quite understandable considering the fact that she spent the last two years in Australia which is a very beautiful place I have to say. Tax free money and the option to fly down to Kerala often over a weekend didn’t appeal to her much. Oh well... </p> <p class="MsoNormal">So I accepted a job offer to move to Brisbane and settle down in Oz with a laid back office job so that we could spend time together. My visa came through and decided to leave for OZ almost immediately. So I packed my bags – which were just my clothes and sports accessories. And here I am in Brisbane with my wife J, trying to settle down in a new place.</p> <p class="MsoNormal">For the first time in my life I am going to be paying taxes and mobile bills and house rent as it was all taken care of by my firm while in Dubai. But within days of landing here in Australia I have completely fallen in love with this place. I have never been this excited in my life as I am at this moment. Tomorrow is my first day at my new office and I am looking forward to life in Brisbane.</p> <p class="MsoNormal">I love life.</p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p></div>Discovering Mhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02529618268788605646noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4570553353561445245.post-30561680611831734642009-10-27T10:51:00.000-07:002009-10-27T11:19:00.477-07:00A decade of slogging.After university I goofed around for an year just basically waiting for results and spending dads money – I thought I’ll do that till I get fed up. I never did have an issue with spending dad’s dough forever, but dad did! Our yahoo group mail was fully active with all my college mates posting their achievements in the past one year – some got promoted, some got overseas postings and some were doing their masters in India and abroad… updates kept coming it. All I had time for in between spending dad’s money and planning holidays was to send congrats to each one of them. I looked at my “sent mails” and it was only “good for you mate” “way to go dude” , “oh wow how are the blondes in the United States?”..hmm.. And so after my numerous failed attempts at finding a job or even getting a decent interview, mostly due my slackness and my overly impressive grades (highly sarcastic there) from university, I asked dad to sponsor my Masters or find me a job. Thanks to my utterly dismal performance in BTech he wasn’t sure of me pursing an academic career. Oh well can’t blame him for that. I still am surprised about how I scraped through college.<br /><br />So after a month or so Dad finally got me a job or I thought it was a job. I go in happily for the interview and all goes well as he asks me some basic Mathematics and Physics and some Mechanical stuff. And the supervisor told me that I can join from the next day. WOW ! Score one out of one ! Nice ! but hey - what about the pay package ? Should I be negotiating that ? Hmm. Well I thought dad must have sorted it all out and decided on a hefty sum worthy of my skills. Super Dad!<br /><br />On the first day the manager says – okay let me show you your work place. I am all set in a fancy tie and a shirt and new trousers – all new and branded of course! He takes me to the back of the yard and shows me a huge bench cum table (full of junk and broken stuff) at the very corner which didn’t have an inch of space on it and with at least a few centimeters of dust all over. Not been touched for a year at least. He goes – clean it up and its yours. You will find overalls and gloves and cleaning equipment in the cupboard there – give me a shout if you need anything. Ta. “er..Me ? Clean ?” “there must be some mistake here” “ what happened to the janitor?” these were my thoughts but then I thought it would be best to keep quiet for now and work at least till the first pay check :-P<br /><br />For the first whole month I was pretty much cleaning the shop and tools and cars, greasing the forklifts and cranes, helping the secretary with photocopies and basically anything that didn’t require me to use my brains I was made to do. Phew that was a tough one month. But at the end of the month the table was spick and span, all tools were serviced, showed up on time each day, worked a weekend when I had to and everyone there liked me because they all had a slave :-P.. Come pay time – I was told that since I was a temp they can’t pay me in cash as it’s against company policies. I was shattered :( instead they gave me a battered old HP printer with no print cartridges because they were upgrading all their printers. So I go home carrying this printer – and mum and dad were all thrilled at the fact that I earned this printer – and told me that this is probably the heaviest pay check me or anyone else for that matter must have brought home ( literally). I smile and then borrow some money from dad to treat some of my friends :) and that night it was my turn to log on to yahoo groups and make a posting with the good news. I was getting there…<br /><br />Two months down the lane I was made permanent at the yard for my enthusiasm and expert cleaning skills more than anything else. But that was a start to a career that took me places, brought me stuff and allowed me to do things that I enjoyed doing without having to say – “hey dad I am outta money again”.<br /><br />Come end of this month – it would be ten years since I put on that pair of blue overalls, armed with a mop and mask and went about cleaning up the yard.Discovering Mhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02529618268788605646noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4570553353561445245.post-74945346417117599452009-10-05T12:30:00.000-07:002009-10-05T12:48:30.969-07:00Oh Scheisser!<a href="http://www.butkintuparantu.com/2009/10/thread-shop.html">KG</a> had asked her blogger mates to pick the 10th picture from their first photo album post it along with the story that the picture unfolds. So here is mine from the Album - Austria2005.<br /><br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgY5tcirMX09PPYljqShAtW1rPJTesQY5ln_jir7I4s6kHHlUVk1_Vkzu92rS_earu56RyutMfPc3NKtCY_d7L2BSTEgljK4_RfPZlqPccR3WLlnyh1f4dm96nmedqVOPqEzyl88-Y1tJsx/s1600-h/CIMG1156.JPG"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 300px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5389202201181166722" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgY5tcirMX09PPYljqShAtW1rPJTesQY5ln_jir7I4s6kHHlUVk1_Vkzu92rS_earu56RyutMfPc3NKtCY_d7L2BSTEgljK4_RfPZlqPccR3WLlnyh1f4dm96nmedqVOPqEzyl88-Y1tJsx/s400/CIMG1156.JPG" /></a><br /><br /><p><br /><br />The picture was taken right outside a bar on top of Kitzbühel ski slopes in Austria – was a bit drunk when I took this picture. And this goes down as one of the most embarrassing moments of my life to date and believe me I do have some moments that would make some even jump in a well .. oh well I’ll leave those for some other time. </p><p><br />Me and my mates were all ready to hit the slopes after the ski lift took us to the top of the mountains. It was a pretty exciting ride up to the peak called the Kitzbuhler Horn which is around 2000 m high and view there was fantastic with snow covered peaks rising above the clouds. And to be able to snowboard down the slopes we had to have a bit of alcohol in us to give us that extra guts to go off the beaten tracks and go off piste. So we decided to have a few pints before we started off downhill. Drink and be merry!<br /><br />Flashback: Two days ago when we were in Munich we had a massive drinking session which mostly consisted of Kaiser beer which is like the Kingfisher of India. But unfortunately we all had to make frequent dump trips because the beer didn’t go down too well on any of us. We were literally waiting for the other person to get out of the loo for our turn. So they ended up renaming the Kaiser beer to Scheisser beer. Scheisser is German for shit – which I didn’t know (at least till two days later).<br /><br />Okay so here I am all set to take the orders because it was my turn to buy the rounds – everyone was going “ I’ll have a Scheisser”, “me too”, “yea I’ll have the same” .. . So I fight my way to the bar counter between the Germans who by the way have an average height of 6 ft 5 inches. and after a while of waiting I could see the bar tender and I yell out “ three scheisser beers please” .. the bar tender looks at me with a confused look and nods his head in a confused manner. So I yell out again thinking that he might not have heard me properly “ three schiesser beers please” on top of my voice. I started to attract stares from people around me and the bar tender didn’t say much but stared straight into my eyes and I knew something was wrong. So I turn around to where my mates were seated and I find E lying on the bench and laughing away to glory holding his stomach. J too was laughing seated on the floor trying to say something but he couldn’t finish off anything he starts because he would start laughing again.. finally after J managed to control his laughter, he jumped up and told the waiter that I meant Kaiser beer. I was this little 5 ft 8 in guy looking up at all those Germans and Austrians with a totally embarrassed face.. damn I won’t ever forget that moment. We explained the situation to the bar tender and he started laughing too.. *sigh*<br /><br />Years later whenever we get around for a beer which is not very often as we are all busy with each other lives we still remind ourselves of that day and have an extra pint in memory of the Scheisser beer. </p>Discovering Mhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02529618268788605646noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4570553353561445245.post-15335652590801176492009-10-02T00:12:00.000-07:002009-10-02T01:20:26.151-07:00delhi 6I thoroughly enjoyed Delhi and can’t wait to go back. Wide roads, friendly people and great food. Even the Hindi there sounded much smoother than the Hindi I am used to hearing here in the Gulf which is more like the <em>tapori</em> Hindi. I was even brave enough to converse in Hindi with a few clients and they didn’t quite make out that I am a southie from my accent :) But I still have a lot of work as far as my accent is concerned. The reason I shy away from speaking in Hindi is because I hear Keralites here speak Hindi with a ridiculous accent and I hate to sound like that..<br /><br /><br />I visited Chandini Chowk, Qutub Minar, Jama Masjid, Raj Ghat and the ISKON temple at Greater Kailas. What I enjoyed the most was the Akhsardham temple which I visited with my mother – it is a fairly new temple and well maintained. They have done it up really well. The security checks there is a bit overwhelming but I guess it is needed there. Cant post any pictures of that place because cameras were not allowed inside. There is a religious show that starts every three hours and I have been told that it is not to be missed but I couldn’t make it due to time constraints.<br /><br /><br />Also took a day trip to Agra and passed by Fatehpur Sikri which was totally amazing. To be honest I really liked my walk around the corridors of Fatehpur Sikri more than the visit to the Taj Mahal. The Taj was nice but it didn’t make me go WOW like I did when I went inside Fatehpur Sikri.<br /><br /><br />Just being in Delhi constantly reminds you of India’s history and the freedom struggle and the heritage of India. None of the other Indian cities I have visited had that effect on me. Anyway I am back in Dubai and is telling everyone here how awesome Delhi is and that it’s the best city in India etc etc.. So one of my friends asks me if I am ready to go and live there. And I go “NO” – without even thinking twice. I do not want to part with the comfy life I have here and go live in Delhi although there are loads of things I miss about India but it still won’t take me back – at least not now.<br /><br /><br />So my friend said “Desh mein hum videsh dhoondthey hain aur videsh mein hum desh dhoondthey hain” – how true !<br /><br /><br /><br /><p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgnuz7040jzxqu13Z5phEvHi8S6qd13_AJMP8dwyzvCWPan6ORnAr_kNlqsQxRKKq7FWSpqzpCcdUyYDNgM9mr4frloPeCnxY7FVp84oOieXAOEh1IuqC06YtlaqhtMgngTm5EvmHzgaF6Y/s1600-h/5.JPG"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 240px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 320px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5387909062970535794" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgnuz7040jzxqu13Z5phEvHi8S6qd13_AJMP8dwyzvCWPan6ORnAr_kNlqsQxRKKq7FWSpqzpCcdUyYDNgM9mr4frloPeCnxY7FVp84oOieXAOEh1IuqC06YtlaqhtMgngTm5EvmHzgaF6Y/s320/5.JPG" /></a><strong>The man we owe it all to.</strong></p><br /><p></p><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4p8qRKScaEu5uamcYZN_TUvVZ_s96teGNk4g6-OxHc8_qZfAT4DvUTiixS_e0bpL6XLIpt8f-UFzHkrtkr0gyVSH5CcYvJ2Gz06qtmAwvAkC76LaVzvBWvmUPRrL3Es3qjZirkwBGbRBi/s1600-h/4.JPG"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5387909061633428258" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4p8qRKScaEu5uamcYZN_TUvVZ_s96teGNk4g6-OxHc8_qZfAT4DvUTiixS_e0bpL6XLIpt8f-UFzHkrtkr0gyVSH5CcYvJ2Gz06qtmAwvAkC76LaVzvBWvmUPRrL3Es3qjZirkwBGbRBi/s320/4.JPG" /></a> <strong>The ISKON temple at night - reminds me of the casino Excalibur in Las Vegas.<br /></strong><br /><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhIPQnNYngDiI-Dhrpz-yHM04fGwkbzhzCzoPprzb5n9vtZ3kEN84cr2aX12ocRPNUK2VGyXm_fweaWbgeEkmVcMqM65RGttntGzXg3aHliabQJRDT2hfs5bAq-xFqc64iAgxlECgu5TSQm/s1600-h/3.JPG"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5387909050834015330" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhIPQnNYngDiI-Dhrpz-yHM04fGwkbzhzCzoPprzb5n9vtZ3kEN84cr2aX12ocRPNUK2VGyXm_fweaWbgeEkmVcMqM65RGttntGzXg3aHliabQJRDT2hfs5bAq-xFqc64iAgxlECgu5TSQm/s320/3.JPG" /></a> <strong>Courtyard in Fatehpur Sikri.</strong><br /><br /><br /><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9mT41G9gyDddEqzRkuh3vexXbwxiyAvovt5W78-1zWCc5KBBrWwqoBGG3kOyuH-Mic40oB24JfpRW5aYzcqfbfprRDTtVgXiPzuRRr8k253P7hcYtzJC_mbnrEM2N_8IilWvKtkgqXgza/s1600-h/2.JPG"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5387909041188381074" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9mT41G9gyDddEqzRkuh3vexXbwxiyAvovt5W78-1zWCc5KBBrWwqoBGG3kOyuH-Mic40oB24JfpRW5aYzcqfbfprRDTtVgXiPzuRRr8k253P7hcYtzJC_mbnrEM2N_8IilWvKtkgqXgza/s320/2.JPG" /></a><strong> The magnificent Taj.<br /></strong><br /><br /><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQRyWScDQFeyDD1XEPBNAeeQfXgyJdvptrMmP3yn9a3OFWXBJGbNXAYcyELJsY_Df9aT-1ZXr0MuxJj_GPoaihxruWgEmjGI2D4euNDooE1MS2eHzMzo-LjeOonlYktnvh-1OQE_YVioXv/s1600-h/1.JPG"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5387909039018085282" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQRyWScDQFeyDD1XEPBNAeeQfXgyJdvptrMmP3yn9a3OFWXBJGbNXAYcyELJsY_Df9aT-1ZXr0MuxJj_GPoaihxruWgEmjGI2D4euNDooE1MS2eHzMzo-LjeOonlYktnvh-1OQE_YVioXv/s320/1.JPG" /></a><strong> A stroll down the corrirors of history.</strong><br /></div><div><br />Jai Hind (mallu eshtyle).<br /><div></div></div></div></div>Discovering Mhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02529618268788605646noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4570553353561445245.post-76713132019251986212009-09-12T05:16:00.000-07:002009-09-12T05:27:34.750-07:00Green is the way forward !So I bought a jute bag - mostly for carrying groceries back home. Going green is what it’s all about lately and this is my latest step at saving the world. I am not sure how much greener the world will be with me buying this jute bag. I have never been motivated with long term results – I like to see the change now. Very impatient I would say. But I guess there are certain things in the world that cannot be changed overnight and it’s always good to just do your part and not look for immediate results.<br /><br /><br /><br /><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5380556172952426450" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGyUuK4rricA20ivdFswtCt-Tl152O-FUWUVMAa5Vvw4-TABELFtoL-TicgOfm23hRmySv1kmXqTq5ZVTPIBDFp7754W0KOgaoXeUNcyRk5spMi-x29I2itrnRyppAWUjfsVIGdCT6bP-d/s320/IMG_0012.jpg" /><br /><br />But anyway I feel good about the jute bag and thought of sharing this picture with everyone .Discovering Mhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02529618268788605646noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4570553353561445245.post-10423129917837837442009-09-12T04:32:00.000-07:002009-09-12T05:04:24.966-07:00My first Blog Badge and completely proud of it :)YAY ! I got my blog’s first badge !! tara rum tara rum *drum roll*.. tara rum tara rum..<br />– thanks a lot KG.<br /><br /><br /><br /><p><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 204px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 198px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5380548163263668466" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgCidmGIQq1vx3xP5HUk62MRxkgzSA869JQfZODCTwVH5U5ydcOm4ovTAdKiOTuVT46jAlC2gWwFJ4DcCOYTxtQhuKpdP__NSHRda81GjfClemgc0HT25sz-wtUFQ4rVWNqjB09TVIJBzY-/s320/honest+scrap+award_thumb.jpg" /><br /><br />But that brings me to have to write ten honest things about myself. Oh well here goes.<br /><br /><em>1. I pray to god only when things aren’t going well. </em></p><em><p><br />2. When at life’s crossroads I ask parents for advice because I always feel only they have an unconflicted interest in your well being. </p><p><br />3. I fall in love easily. </p><p><br />4. I am very materialistic. </p><p><br />5. I do not buy nutella anymore because I cannot stop eating it till I finish the whole bottle or fall sick. *mostly I fall sick* </p><p><br />6. I tend to run away from difficult situations instead of confronting it. </p><p><br />7. I cry easily watching the silliest of movies. But I tell people around that my eyes water if the air con is set too low :-P </p><p><br />8. I still day dream about being a soccer star :) although most players hang up their boots by the time they get to my age :( </p><p><br />9. I go dutch to the point of splitting pennies :-P </p></em><p><br /><em>10. I can't lie - not that I havent tried but I totally suck at it.</em> </p><p><br /><em><br /></em>..and seven honest blogs – hmm. I don’t think I even read seven blogs. I am going to mention two other honest blogs that I enjoy reading may be later on when I find more I'll add them to my lsit.<br /><br />Casuarina - <a href="http://writingtherain.blogspot.com/">http://writingtherain.blogspot.com</a><br />Bedatri Dutta - <a href="http://beadysea.blogspot.com/">http://beadysea.blogspot.com</a><br /><br />:)</p>Discovering Mhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02529618268788605646noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4570553353561445245.post-54112017987309035232009-09-03T23:57:00.000-07:002009-09-04T03:33:02.152-07:00Reality Check<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDxcFgnuuR_abXWBcdaDPCPz_uUB0cSd007G_uipXbL5lbT1YM2Cz2Qf7y44Xm8rTCwYV6WdLGiDwyauoT5C_yZXiqn58953pzxTNiGGxb09K1o-KCdfeQ2gOH1YVTX5FrI1yzzQcAsrut/s1600-h/7.JPG"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5377507412101459314" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDxcFgnuuR_abXWBcdaDPCPz_uUB0cSd007G_uipXbL5lbT1YM2Cz2Qf7y44Xm8rTCwYV6WdLGiDwyauoT5C_yZXiqn58953pzxTNiGGxb09K1o-KCdfeQ2gOH1YVTX5FrI1yzzQcAsrut/s400/7.JPG" /></a><br /><br /><br />Kerala trip was nostalgic, refreshing and an eye opener in a lot of ways. Landed there early in the morning and took a cab home. I spent most of the day inside the apartment cleaning and dusting it. Later in the evening I stood by the balcony that overlooked a busy street. There were two wheelers, autos, cars and buses all honking their way through in a completely disorganised fashion. What caught my attention was the road work that was going on below our apartment. There was a little kid sitting on a pile of red sand dug out red sand and holding on to what seemed like a piece of fruit that he had picked up from the streets. His father was busy working and his mother was chopping down plants in in order to clear the area. I wasnt exacly shocked because I have seen such scenarios in the past during my time in Kerala. I realized yet again that life is'nt all about that 100K dollar job or that M5 that has been on my wish list for ages. For some life is all about survival, that too one day at a time. For some it's about having clean water to drink and having atleast one square meal a day. For some its about being able to afford to send their little ones to school. For some it's about getting a new plastic sheet to cover the roof of their house in the slums so that water does not drip in on a rainy day. These are luxuries in their lives which most of us take for granted.<br /><br /><br /><div></div><div></div><div></div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEheB9HQjIYS3_BG0Jb3vlUzK4knnabpONj8oCovDz95_8vArzAvlFI42hIYuk0rPf3d2ettesRMf3uENTAVvTJo55oTZ7zRsEYPSsr9eyFstVYKtDDQbG6f8t7vIste4cfmcgw0VUcYNici/s1600-h/6.bmp"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5377507020297023666" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEheB9HQjIYS3_BG0Jb3vlUzK4knnabpONj8oCovDz95_8vArzAvlFI42hIYuk0rPf3d2ettesRMf3uENTAVvTJo55oTZ7zRsEYPSsr9eyFstVYKtDDQbG6f8t7vIste4cfmcgw0VUcYNici/s400/6.bmp" /></a> </div><div></div><div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhihyphenhyphenx-c0a7LDSApvRR4O2bnBFHPXkG8pdB81KDmqk-0rx7cjPjQw6zhINwixhSkCSUdPIihiplQECZK96lhGpzxK6zSYAagf-3mhQo7MCavY2pYQAcqmA4tsDPDsmADq5FxYZmqeq8_rF5/s1600-h/5.JPG"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5377507014429427442" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhihyphenhyphenx-c0a7LDSApvRR4O2bnBFHPXkG8pdB81KDmqk-0rx7cjPjQw6zhINwixhSkCSUdPIihiplQECZK96lhGpzxK6zSYAagf-3mhQo7MCavY2pYQAcqmA4tsDPDsmADq5FxYZmqeq8_rF5/s400/5.JPG" /></a> <br /></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div>There was a lot of rain during the week - <br />I enjoyed listening to the rain sitting by the window. It was quite soothing to take breaths of the fresh moist air after the rain. You instantly feel a lot relaxed. One of the days I took a drive down to the village where I used to live when I was a kid. If felt nice to wander around the streets where I used to run around and play with other kids. I recalled that one of our hobbies during rainly seasons was to built paper boats of different shapes and set if afloat at one end of a flowing stream and see which one reaches the other end first. We used to run alongside our boats all the way to the other end. Those were the carefree childhood days. I even visited the little school where I had done my primary schooling - now it was shut down and deserted but I enjoyed a stroll through the bushy unkempt area which at one time used to be out playground bustling with action. *sigh*</div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div><br /><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg08pbOMUU79rV7_bqBS_jgud4CwKI_8ZOfyrTw0qejM6wQeIBkSl2Ioad7__-iVVmuhBBOKetNTosMvRNLiYKXheX7YBlGk6O4IsqKv8eto-BuIk5H6jGFgugV5iAksp_SYMzFXS0k5rDD/s1600-h/3.JPG"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5377507007990956050" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg08pbOMUU79rV7_bqBS_jgud4CwKI_8ZOfyrTw0qejM6wQeIBkSl2Ioad7__-iVVmuhBBOKetNTosMvRNLiYKXheX7YBlGk6O4IsqKv8eto-BuIk5H6jGFgugV5iAksp_SYMzFXS0k5rDD/s400/3.JPG" /></a></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div>On the drive back I stopped by one of the street side "nariyal pani" or "karikku vellam" shop. He charged 12 Rs per coconut which I thought was outrageous considering the fact that there are more coconut trees in Kerala than humans. Later he told me about how he has a knack for selecting the sweet ones by just tapping on the outer shell of the coconut. Amazing! </div><div><br /><br /></div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJUeL7ofm2jmXGB19BcRCe4DEnWLqshsYDH47-GNl1E8K4Xo6JhaIGJ83jlxuVC7NwK4Zut6zakeFTmIqkEYMUtFfjYDZ460zd9DUNKvu5mLnTsARSHdgO25FQBKFdKC8whbRhg2ZBfvQH/s1600-h/2.JPG"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5377506997009781538" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJUeL7ofm2jmXGB19BcRCe4DEnWLqshsYDH47-GNl1E8K4Xo6JhaIGJ83jlxuVC7NwK4Zut6zakeFTmIqkEYMUtFfjYDZ460zd9DUNKvu5mLnTsARSHdgO25FQBKFdKC8whbRhg2ZBfvQH/s400/2.JPG" /></a></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div>Visited a lot of temples and villages, attended a wedding and a reception and ran into a lot of relatives from different parts of Central Kerala. Finally it was time to go back and as I checked in for my flight I felt a bit of sadness creeping in as I felt I was leaving a place to which I belong. I never felt this way about my country before - hmm.. may be its the age catching up with me? As I walk into the lounge at the Cochin airport I see a different breed of people who are all busy scrolling away on their Blackberries or glued to their laptops while waiting on their cafe latte with skimmed milk. </div><div><br /><br /><br /></div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdFuSfgeoXlV6PUNRFkLBbKO61ajtAWfKpxa2tQhVujt3MuU60j0h8bJ0ZzFYl8vmGuzbUFclzC9ozFlb26WZinQHdO1s4M7wmSNMpNs5UVzsl4Ks6EVTr8nwvHIt877LQSyUCBFr71wLi/s1600-h/1.JPG"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5377506995240524418" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdFuSfgeoXlV6PUNRFkLBbKO61ajtAWfKpxa2tQhVujt3MuU60j0h8bJ0ZzFYl8vmGuzbUFclzC9ozFlb26WZinQHdO1s4M7wmSNMpNs5UVzsl4Ks6EVTr8nwvHIt877LQSyUCBFr71wLi/s400/1.JPG" /></a> <div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div>I long to go back.</div></div></div></div>Discovering Mhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02529618268788605646noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4570553353561445245.post-14806189247371687012009-08-19T05:16:00.001-07:002009-08-19T05:42:26.732-07:00weekend at nasik :)It was a refreshing weekend at the Sula vineyard in Nasik. A villa by the lake with a hill on the other side, loads of rain, wine, weed joints, amazing food and a cool bunch of friends to share it all with.<br /><br /><br /><p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjeXx7FMEXgrnLJVJ1vML7hY9-vae3DHaqvPXlMdsN_7bI69CRmzeFRvIuZAfIOcyKEVnGmhViLx108TcB39fGKPhmaTY1niouvsQPPoG_65rxixA-U2flOYQ5mRsF7yrDfC2QOOHQsgPV/s1600-h/5731_134188260287_673095287_3557020_3845072_n.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 214px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5371648933985854754" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjeXx7FMEXgrnLJVJ1vML7hY9-vae3DHaqvPXlMdsN_7bI69CRmzeFRvIuZAfIOcyKEVnGmhViLx108TcB39fGKPhmaTY1niouvsQPPoG_65rxixA-U2flOYQ5mRsF7yrDfC2QOOHQsgPV/s320/5731_134188260287_673095287_3557020_3845072_n.jpg" /></a><br />I had never heard of the Sula Valley or the Sula Wines till a friend fo mine sent me a link to thier website asking me if I was interested in joining them for an extended weekend in Nasik. <a href="http://www.sulawines.com/">www.sulawines.com</a> .I am always up for a new place whether its home or abroad. So I packed my bags..<br /><br /></p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgg4yRF86MW6L41ohm9X626EStJWVHk__Oe-oKXYD53pyKlTcJOULQoS4wh5qhfpnI6DuBxblYNEbIdk-hkrKlPBQqsPqhSF5h_571gYglUqvNX8IoCKNoSAQgFgszcMGpywGb11bbh06gL/s1600-h/DSC02104.JPG"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5371648596990516418" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgg4yRF86MW6L41ohm9X626EStJWVHk__Oe-oKXYD53pyKlTcJOULQoS4wh5qhfpnI6DuBxblYNEbIdk-hkrKlPBQqsPqhSF5h_571gYglUqvNX8IoCKNoSAQgFgszcMGpywGb11bbh06gL/s320/DSC02104.JPG" /></a><br />Stay at "beyond" was ultraa comfortable. We were literally spoilt for the full four days we were there. There was an inhouse cook who made the most amazing vegetarian dishes I have ever had. I am a <strong>"a meal without meat? .. whats that like ?"</strong> type of person. But <em>pandit-ji</em> as he liked to be called and his group of helpers took care of the meals for four days and it opened up a whole new world of fine vegetarian dining. The food was so yum. In the middle east the vegetarian choices are so limited and bland that it is almost impossible to just survive on just veggies.<br /><br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgnLcKkhYKrfKeEN0LD8TTYanSxR-PQI6q7VtCR2xZS09IEJsgCMx69pZ3jz8AhZMdW-6yeEP0x-9FisSKNSI8TBg7dHnCy6HtmOsGrAWGEf_9CekJBv4kI5m4KfKeIjld9TSTH415sHLfJ/s1600-h/DSC02103.JPG"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5371648588126016770" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgnLcKkhYKrfKeEN0LD8TTYanSxR-PQI6q7VtCR2xZS09IEJsgCMx69pZ3jz8AhZMdW-6yeEP0x-9FisSKNSI8TBg7dHnCy6HtmOsGrAWGEf_9CekJBv4kI5m4KfKeIjld9TSTH415sHLfJ/s320/DSC02103.JPG" /></a><br />There was also a private infinity pool which overlooked the vineyard - this is where we spent majority of our time chilling after getting stoned with weed and wine :) And one one of the days we went for a tour of the factory whcih included a wine tasting session - 10 different types which was enough to get me on a high :-P<br /><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8qAMf5y0WtSSCW7Kjto-HhyO2N-XsZeXwMEDj0Wwp2GbHe34GNf2MxS2AUnnGFNLLFnum1dzmBUJ1mzpsjZ_8PqNyAt_KLuCuW3fGIzYcHJSxnwPSE2cvE-6LplqoyLWOrg9TmTJwD1Uw/s1600-h/5731_134188330287_673095287_3557031_7176286_n.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 214px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5371648583724032050" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8qAMf5y0WtSSCW7Kjto-HhyO2N-XsZeXwMEDj0Wwp2GbHe34GNf2MxS2AUnnGFNLLFnum1dzmBUJ1mzpsjZ_8PqNyAt_KLuCuW3fGIzYcHJSxnwPSE2cvE-6LplqoyLWOrg9TmTJwD1Uw/s320/5731_134188330287_673095287_3557031_7176286_n.jpg" /></a><br />After the trip I spent a few days in our Mumbai offices before i returned to Dubai. And since I had to work I managed to get my firm to reimburse my airfare to Mumbai.. cheeky wasnt it ?And it being only a four hrs drive from Mumbai I might even think of revisitng that place..<br /><br /></div><div align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgAYvWBEd3yS7hU1-h2FfK1jI435Pzo-EukVU0SWx_UJVrgKyfIGb017GF235QujWvOA-34Me_pOB5PxkEbbR5-YhXaksAQrvGTXVODQV5LdxMDCUBTiIk6Wokr6pnhaCyasUiti2Jd_SgS/s1600-h/DSC02202.JPG"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5371648579379027634" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgAYvWBEd3yS7hU1-h2FfK1jI435Pzo-EukVU0SWx_UJVrgKyfIGb017GF235QujWvOA-34Me_pOB5PxkEbbR5-YhXaksAQrvGTXVODQV5LdxMDCUBTiIk6Wokr6pnhaCyasUiti2Jd_SgS/s320/DSC02202.JPG" /></a><br />* most of the pictures were taken by a friend who is a total photography freak*<br /><br /><div><div></div></div></div>Discovering Mhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02529618268788605646noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4570553353561445245.post-41923117137382672562009-06-24T12:03:00.000-07:002009-06-24T12:39:09.109-07:00Smooth? Well…almost!I was flying back from Cairo yesterday and managed book a window seat on the flight! I love window seats :). So I board the flight, settle down and start browsing through the magazines that were offered, menus, wine list, what movies to watch etc… hoping that the person next to me will not be a hippo who will eat into half my airspace.. It happens to me often. And finally an overweight guy did show up and started to shove his baggage into the compartment overhead. I am thinking – Why ME? . He finally settles down in the aisle seat which is one seat away from me. Phew – that was close. I was so thankful.. and thinking what are the chances of another pot belly getting assigned next to me.. ? naaah !!<br /><br />Enter a blonde – a total chic of a lady and settles down in the middle seat next to me. She smiles and I smile back. I am thinking ..damn I should have shaved, and put on that expensive perfume I had a bought last month, do I have bad breath ? etc etc.. the usual guys train of thoughts :-P<br /><br /><strong>Hot Chic</strong>: *breaks the ice*<em>Hi.. you live in Cairo?<br /></em><br /><strong>Me:</strong> *Clears my voice – sits up straight* <em>No. I live in Dubai – here on business. And you ?</em><br /><br /><strong>Hot Chic:</strong> <em>Oh I live in Dubai too – where abouts?<br /></em><br /><strong>Me:</strong> <em>Al-Barsha and you ?<br /></em><br /><strong>Hot Chic:</strong> <em>Emirates Hills.. May be we can share a cab from the airport ??<br /></em><br /><strong>Me:</strong> *NICE – so far so good* <em>Oh sure – nice quiet place really – I love that place.<br /></em><br /><strong>Hot Chic:</strong> <em>Yea I love it too. Hey that’s a cool tattoo you got... really good!<br /></em><br /><strong>Me:</strong> *er ..okay this is moving on*. <em>You think so? Thanks!<br /></em><br /><strong>Hot Chic:</strong> <em>Hey ..umm..you mind swapping seats? I had a long day and I could do with a bit more space.<br /></em><br /><strong>Me:</strong> *didn’t see that one coming* <em>Er.. Yea I mind swapping seats. I had a long day too and was hoping to catch a bit of sleep.<br /></em><br /><strong>Fat Guy from across:</strong> *didn’t miss a beat* <em>That was smooth… till he refused! Nice try.<br /></em><br />We all laughed about it.. and I dozed off after a while.<br /><br /><br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgedEVXfa87nyyK1gIlBsmLbP033LZ3o6pfr7cG4xy55zjOAGgmcJ_LFODqlqw2X-t1XjFZc6S_X1ZU4tMjdB_C86T-5RGe6kinRUGmfFUeJkimht4Dzsii3_lk1CgZuFs24DcXWVubuvwc/s1600-h/cairo.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5350972108780798706" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 240px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgedEVXfa87nyyK1gIlBsmLbP033LZ3o6pfr7cG4xy55zjOAGgmcJ_LFODqlqw2X-t1XjFZc6S_X1ZU4tMjdB_C86T-5RGe6kinRUGmfFUeJkimht4Dzsii3_lk1CgZuFs24DcXWVubuvwc/s320/cairo.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><em><strong>Cairo after take off.</strong><br /><strong></strong></em><br /><strong></strong><br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqnvPROUa89L0viVwM6P8TSGWHFaRjW3RRlKEOAyFxrhmCekIvIw5WctHO6jcyEjRGPx2vC0FZ2vBjywQcGrnsN68eyXhwFUJz4MSWy16jS0n3NGbgXmJu9Xz_ttc90X-njh-nFmIWdjpw/s1600-h/red-sea.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5350972103835715106" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqnvPROUa89L0viVwM6P8TSGWHFaRjW3RRlKEOAyFxrhmCekIvIw5WctHO6jcyEjRGPx2vC0FZ2vBjywQcGrnsN68eyXhwFUJz4MSWy16jS0n3NGbgXmJu9Xz_ttc90X-njh-nFmIWdjpw/s320/red-sea.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><em><strong>This might be the Red Sea - not sure though !</strong><br /></em><br /><br />And no we didn’t share a cab.Discovering Mhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02529618268788605646noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4570553353561445245.post-58961791656287079782009-06-18T11:13:00.001-07:002009-06-19T09:42:59.670-07:00Martin. (june 2005)..after the training session I decided to wander around the small town of St Gaudens for a while. It’s a small city which is an hour’s drive from Toulouse. It was my second day of training and I was all excited to be in France for the first time. Anyway.. I ended up near a church where there was a lot of singing and few cultural activities going on, so I hung around for a while and had coffee at a near by café, and enjoyed watching people moving about. I was feeling very relaxed. Then I decided to head back to the hotel we are put up. On the way back through one of the narrow streets I heard live music.. some one was singing stairway to heaven. Oooh.. I love that song so I decided to find out who/where etc.. and ended up at a closed shop with a street singer seated in front of it humming away and strumming his guitar. He had a cap in front of him for passersby to drop in a euro or two.. I stopped by and listened to him for a while and after a song or two struck a conversation with him.. actually I asked him if he took requests :-P and he agreed. Stairway to Heaven, Hotel California, Winds of Change and a few of my other favorite numbers followed. After an hour or so he was ready to leave because the church rush had reduced and he had to make it back home before nightfall.. He had made around16 euros that day. He then talked about his family and how he was actually Dutch and how he hated the governments and struggle for financial freedom and material things and how he got on the road five years ago and had never looked back. He seemed and interesting person.. so I decided to offer him a lift back to his house as he was already getting late..<br /><br /><strong>Martin:</strong> <em>But your car wont be able to reach my house..</em><br /><br /><strong>Me:</strong> <em>Oh.. why not ? I have a VW Touran – its an MPV”</em><br /><br /><strong>Martin:</strong> <em>I live in the mountains and there are no roads that take you all the way. </em><br /><br /><strong>Me:</strong> <em>OH WOW – you live in the mountains ? awesome.. I always wanted to do that. </em><br /><br /><strong>Martin:</strong> <em>Yea ? you are welcome home anytime – and you can meet my wife and daughter.. </em><br /><br /><strong>Me:</strong> <em>Thanks. I think I’d like that.<br /></em><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhphsxeW7z1QOQTcjr81iB8uazsxPnRg94haGyRjHv7q7ShVQEsHvEFYIrZz5grxU572TFOteyMUiRqbjoOu5xizmB4Im2Wco5vDe6etx5ZshpuQ_oNmzEMmYYpzdM-Rzs5XaZWH2QQCj3k/s1600-h/DSC00067.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5348733179818265618" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhphsxeW7z1QOQTcjr81iB8uazsxPnRg94haGyRjHv7q7ShVQEsHvEFYIrZz5grxU572TFOteyMUiRqbjoOu5xizmB4Im2Wco5vDe6etx5ZshpuQ_oNmzEMmYYpzdM-Rzs5XaZWH2QQCj3k/s320/DSC00067.JPG" border="0" /></a> <strong><em>This is where I found Martin, infront of a shop close to the church.</em></strong><br /><br /><br /></p><br /><p></p><br /><p>So we set off to the mountains.. Of course there is a bit of risk involved with going off to the mountains with some stranger gypsy I had met an hour or so ago.. hmm.. but I always had a bit of “living on the edge” in me :-) It was a wonderful drive with the Perynees on my left..and we drove up to the mountains to as far as the MPV would take us which wasn’t much because the ground was muddy and wet from the rains and the car was skidding all around. Then we set off on foot following the narrow pathway through the mountains, We came across a natural lake and a waterfall.. We sat there for a while and emptied a can of local beer we bought at a store at the gas station, and talked for a long time about life and world and music and women and African slaves and many other things I don’t recall. We continued for another 40 mins uphill and I loved every moment of it, the fresh air, Martins stories about survival in the mountains, natural beauty of the perynnees etc.<br /><br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7hcL_BrtgoC_x2C173dsoCnBZ18KhdjWGu3nqpTQq7P3bju6zTbgyjyjdJ0bDOmz9_S4VbHEaMViNef8j4ovssYN1Ak3sx9x6KDTemmwKXCK2xSY_BDKPOkYfRp2xTUA200lNdo7MVYFR/s1600-h/DSC00072.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5348739780505712802" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 228px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7hcL_BrtgoC_x2C173dsoCnBZ18KhdjWGu3nqpTQq7P3bju6zTbgyjyjdJ0bDOmz9_S4VbHEaMViNef8j4ovssYN1Ak3sx9x6KDTemmwKXCK2xSY_BDKPOkYfRp2xTUA200lNdo7MVYFR/s320/DSC00072.JPG" border="0" /></a> <strong><em>The beautiful lake we passed by on the way to the settlement.</em></strong><br /><br /><br />Finally we reach his “settlement” where there were four families living.. His wife came out running to greet him – he had been gone for four days to earn money. Later in the week they would take their donkeys to the market and load them with their supplies for the next month. This was their routine. But on the other hand they also grew vegetables and tapped in fresh water from the mountain streams. So the only supplies they required were just rice and flour and meds and few other handy items for the camp. They even brewed their own beer which was amazing.<br /><br /><br /><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDbEWGU9lkUnf7rSPaUbK8Nq_3NF4tmaEl_pnQjGEsbzOfHj5FGFQKJkxeF6D04-GmT1R7HEJaBjXCpDHs0bPFsb4iyLNTT6wiriaSsrsJ8_xLjnH3N-B0AO4ft1nmQtAeJCLJOLJUvjBu/s1600-h/DSC00077.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5348733171200637282" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDbEWGU9lkUnf7rSPaUbK8Nq_3NF4tmaEl_pnQjGEsbzOfHj5FGFQKJkxeF6D04-GmT1R7HEJaBjXCpDHs0bPFsb4iyLNTT6wiriaSsrsJ8_xLjnH3N-B0AO4ft1nmQtAeJCLJOLJUvjBu/s320/DSC00077.JPG" border="0" /></a><strong><em>Martin with his daughter Josephine infront of the strong house where they take refuge during heavy thnderstorms.</em></strong><br /></div><br /><br /><br />We sat around in their open air kitchen, drank, ate and danced to the music they played. It was awesome! Later they made me sing a Hindi song and I struggled with “papa kehte hain bada naam ..” from QSQT. I suck at singing so had to give up soon. We all sat around and talked a lot more and I also played with Josephine their one year old daughter.. she was so chubby and cute and she was born in the mountains in their little camp.<br /><br /><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3y3jUae1WPtQVmijzNl7T3I1gBtegKdoBZCE5xLaq69IX7oATJHQVoHzFLkCdgK67XqJQ5IBCiq8RdSbv8wDqOmb6h8Kxspyn_ROp8Dvu4m3QPskUGhi9SQsJvEADBkzkKA2lOmfASo0o/s1600-h/DSC00078.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5348733161622333234" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3y3jUae1WPtQVmijzNl7T3I1gBtegKdoBZCE5xLaq69IX7oATJHQVoHzFLkCdgK67XqJQ5IBCiq8RdSbv8wDqOmb6h8Kxspyn_ROp8Dvu4m3QPskUGhi9SQsJvEADBkzkKA2lOmfASo0o/s320/DSC00078.JPG" border="0" /></a> <strong><em>The open kitchen cum dance floor cum chillout lounge.</em></strong><br /><br /><br /></div><br /><div>As it got late it was time to say good bye and after I turned down Martin’s offer to walk down with me to the car, I set off on my return journey by myself. I am very good with directions so I had no problems getting down and my cell phone had good coverage through out in case of emergencies.<br /><br />Long after my visit I still think of Martin and his family and life in the mountains.. and how happy they were to see me :-)<br /><br />Wonder if they still remember my visit to their little camp??</div><br /><div></div>Discovering Mhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02529618268788605646noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4570553353561445245.post-41989540391242495092009-06-15T11:02:00.000-07:002009-06-15T12:08:04.127-07:00THE REAL LOSERS!Although not much of a cricket fan, I watched the T20 match where India took on English in England. Tight match and the English won by a whisker.., they exploited yet again the Indians weakness against short pitched attack just like the West Indies couple of days ago. But the Indians did try hard and missed out in the end. Great game with disappointing results as far as I was concerned. But what shocked me was the crowd response after England clinched victory.<br /><br />As expected the crowd was predominantly Indian and Dhoni’s team received majority of the support unlike in any other part of the world where the home team supporters will outnumber the visitors. But yesterday the Indians felt like at home.. Which was to their advantage. So when it was finally when the victory announcement was being made England team was drowned in boos. It was just booing that could be heard from the stands and that was shocking. No matter which team wins the winners need to be congratulated. England does not deserve that sort of treatment anywhere and definitely not at home of all the places.<br /><br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-dQIVLqn6QCyzIQJWrU45z0Pc6rJD7d4OwR9BHoRgnbcu0vjGDR3sUiqcIzp9kd7jcJs7J47MX9fQSgTsfqFv5Mn_7eexPrvBIaD99pyXFG5NMXsZz9aY1uKVnR7_Ro6z8T-O1uc49Sj5/s1600-h/_42497945_cricket_416.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5347617408111975554" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 230px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-dQIVLqn6QCyzIQJWrU45z0Pc6rJD7d4OwR9BHoRgnbcu0vjGDR3sUiqcIzp9kd7jcJs7J47MX9fQSgTsfqFv5Mn_7eexPrvBIaD99pyXFG5NMXsZz9aY1uKVnR7_Ro6z8T-O1uc49Sj5/s320/_42497945_cricket_416.jpg" border="0" /></a> <em><strong>The winning English Team !</strong></em><br /><br />Paul Collingwood the English skipper expressed his views in a gentle manner where by he said that the victory was sweet but being booed at home ground isn’t something that they were excited about. I felt bad for the winning team.<br /><br />What is ironic is that there is a good chance that the majority of the Indian crowd there are Indians who have accepted the British nationality and are living there. In fact they are British Citizens. What right to they have to boo the British team after they put up a great performance against a visiting team? Even if they weren’t British Citizens – they are people who live in England and they should respect the feelings of the British people. Doing such acts only brings on hatred against the Indians living abroad. Respect others and you shall get some in return.<br /><br />Learn to applaud a great performance. End of the day cricket should be the winner. I am so sad to say that the behavior of the Indian fans was shameful.<br /><br /><br /><em>“We came off the Nursery and we got booed and I think that hurt a few ­people," Collingwood said. "It was a bit strange because obviously we were on our home ground, the home of cricket, and we were getting booed. I thought our performance showed how much we wanted it from there. It was good because it meant we didn't have to make any kind of motivational speech before we went out, it pretty much did it for us."</em> – <strong>Paul Collingwood the English Captain after the match.<br /></strong>Discovering Mhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02529618268788605646noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4570553353561445245.post-53115354704236098992009-06-12T02:30:00.000-07:002009-06-12T02:33:33.315-07:00Indecent Exposure !It was the holy month of Ramadan and I was returning home to Sharjah after a tennis session in Dubai. I was driving back in my sportswear. Unfortunately I met with an accident and had to wait for the traffic police and register the accident and get a no objection letter for my motor insurance. After the necessary formalities were done the officer refused to hand over my driver’s license and asked me to follow him to the police station while the other party was allowed to drive off. I got no reply for my questions as to why I had to come to the police station. Once there he told me that he was going to charge me for dressing appropriately in public. My first thought that went through my mind was “WTF – you have got to be kidding me.” So I politely commented – but I AM dressed appropriately. He told me that it was the month holy of Ramadan and that no provocative outfits should be worn outside! I immediately knew there was no point in arguing with this narrow minded Gaylord! So I asked him if he can just keep my license and come back later etc.. to which he said that the only way I can get released was to ask someone to bring some covered clothing to cover my legs. I could'nt believe a 50 year old man would find my legs provocative.. It is a very scary thought more than anything else.<br /><br />So I managed to get one of my friends to drive to the station with a pair of jeans and got me out without getting charged. Sharjah claims to be the nations “cultural” capital with strict rules against alcohol consumption and entertainment options. But what happened to me was probably the height of “cultural” beliefs.Discovering Mhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02529618268788605646noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4570553353561445245.post-76106504746917753372009-06-12T00:32:00.000-07:002009-06-12T07:12:20.197-07:00Rise and FallDubai thought it would be the center of the world in three years time.. Even made a lot of people think so with the advertisements and future planning and future projects. Although I did not believe that everything would go as per plan, deep inside I wanted it all to be true. Having spent a good part of my life here including my childhood – Dubai is more like a home to me, even though I still need a work visa to enter this place.. oh well!<br /><br />On my drive back from <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">Abu</span> <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">Dhabi</span> after a client visit – I noticed a billboard advertising a certain development that is being planned in Dubai. It sounded very ambitious and intimidating. But will it ever take place? If so when?<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_7Pv4H3aG39k2Ujx4CBF0voItzAM7Ei8RrjNlKJ-6nb6DVehy6Sp_x_BP_sSJSBU7UMPUG7l8QVpTjqhGcZNcxzNPzgtXR2Tpyvk07bodhujAN89VlRvPw30CYgzWZApyszQagCNBrydz/s1600-h/Photo-0133.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5346341075816560930" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 240px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_7Pv4H3aG39k2Ujx4CBF0voItzAM7Ei8RrjNlKJ-6nb6DVehy6Sp_x_BP_sSJSBU7UMPUG7l8QVpTjqhGcZNcxzNPzgtXR2Tpyvk07bodhujAN89VlRvPw30CYgzWZApyszQagCNBrydz/s320/Photo-0133.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgr_ITynI5RloqRL5GfNkbn9qMaAeg-3S6H_vgplbOWTjYRXbLhyVlktapLI1wOxAgTfDDO08gMvadn73zq1sVAMWoohyphenhyphent4GJbUHBbtBIYMzKIk-MrcUEaIzUQtrkGMiEKMPuCOppUxl20g/s1600-h/Photo-0132.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5346341064485783490" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 240px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgr_ITynI5RloqRL5GfNkbn9qMaAeg-3S6H_vgplbOWTjYRXbLhyVlktapLI1wOxAgTfDDO08gMvadn73zq1sVAMWoohyphenhyphent4GJbUHBbtBIYMzKIk-MrcUEaIzUQtrkGMiEKMPuCOppUxl20g/s320/Photo-0132.jpg" border="0" /></a><br />Considering the fact that the same developer is finding it tough to complete studio apartments and deliver it on time as promised, a city the twice size of <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">Hong</span> Kong sounds a bit too far fetched. Fat Hopes.<br /><br />Dubai was boasting of real estate prices comparable to NY and London. All bogus. I feel it was all just a hype to get attention. Now with buyers losing confidence and with no concrete rules on foreign ownership and developers having the right to hike up the maintenance fees according to their interests, the future of the real estate market in Dubai looks bleak. True Dubai was growing faster than it could handle. It will take a lot to buy back the end users confidence. Finally Dubai has realised that Rome was not built in a day.<br /><br />Dubai I think is going through a correction phase where everything is being brought back to realistic levels. Also hopefully the corruption phase is over too where many developers had run off with end users cash..<br /><div></div></div>Discovering Mhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02529618268788605646noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4570553353561445245.post-66432637891687889282009-04-29T13:02:00.000-07:002009-04-29T13:06:58.042-07:00It’s just a matter of accepting it!During my occasional visits to Kuwait the drive from our staff house to the clients is only 10 mins with moderate traffic. But it would take me a good half hour to 45mins due to traffic. And it completely stresses me out - not that I am not used to traffic (anyone who has driven around downtown Dubai will find traffic in Kuwait very minimal). What gets on my nerves is the style of driving here especially the local Kuwaitis. They are just maniacs with their 5.7 liter suburban’s who refuse to acknowledge a 1.2 liter Toyota Yaris which is also trying to inch forward.<br /><br />They would just ignore you, cut in front of you, tail gate you, yell and honk at you when they pass by you over the footpath...you name it. Even then this is a lot more civilized than driving back home through a busy street in Cochin – where there are no rules. But somehow driving there doesn’t stress me out. So I did some thinking as to why does the Kuwaiti animals get me all worked up. I think it is due to the fact that I have accepted the fact that driving in India sucks - that the car next to you is going to cut in front of you, and the car behind is going to honk till you go faster and the auto in front will do a right turn without indicating. So I am all set and prepared to expect the unexpected so there is no element of surprise. A country as rich as Kuwait ought to be better – this just goes to prove that money does not bring class. Anyway so here I am trying to accept that things are bad here and the sooner I do that the more relaxed I would be when I start my day at the office.Discovering Mhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02529618268788605646noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4570553353561445245.post-15042768456491751172009-04-27T02:59:00.000-07:002009-04-27T03:11:36.015-07:00The PalmHaving lived only a 10 minutes drive away from the Palm Jumeirah for the past 5 years – friends and extended family find it hard to believe that my parents have never visited the man made islands.. so I thought of taking them to see what all the hype was about. As usual dad wasn’t interested and mum kinda agreed to come along. So off we went to the palm islands – it was a Saturday evening and since it was weekend, we expected to see a lot of crowd and traffic – but the place looked deserted. There were a lot of apartment buildings that were either not completed or unoccupied. There were loads of “fronds” villas that were being built and for some reason they were all eerily lit up. And at the end of center of the crescent was the mighty Atlantis hotel which is basically a copy of the Atlantis of the Bahamas (without the casinos of course).<br /><br />Me: <em>Hey amma – this is the Atlantis – pretty neat huh?</em><br /><br />Mum: <em>Yeah ? okay.</em> * looks in the opposite direction out in to the sea almost immediately*<br /><br />Me: <em>Aren’t you in “awe” ?</em><br /><br />Mum: <em>Naah !! Atlantis doesn’t appeal to me much – but the sea does :-). I like the sound of it – soothes the mind – may be if I see the original at the Bahamas I might be in awe.</em><br /><br />Me: <em>Must be the old age :-P</em><br /><br />Coming to think of it if they are spending millions on building a landmark hotel – why can’t it be original? Why are they (Dubai) planning to build an Eiffel tower that is taller than the real one – and pyramids larger than the original? I don’t see a point – get real – get original. But having said that have to agree that the whole concept of the palm islands is pretty innovative.<br /><br /><br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1VjBIFMHRm50915Jk251S2fDJxHF0ede8in0aSpDwNPieV-QzqAZOTHp4ICO17uuDLraBZuqDDgZyicjrHahBXxSAWsLKHX0XjF4DHwqHnnsZntRF1KqMKQYtpGWO-VXoZHxrTCxlKba6/s1600-h/Photo-0124.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5329309408178185698" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 240px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1VjBIFMHRm50915Jk251S2fDJxHF0ede8in0aSpDwNPieV-QzqAZOTHp4ICO17uuDLraBZuqDDgZyicjrHahBXxSAWsLKHX0XjF4DHwqHnnsZntRF1KqMKQYtpGWO-VXoZHxrTCxlKba6/s320/Photo-0124.jpg" border="0" /></a> <em>The atlantis at the palm Jumeirah.</em><br /><br /><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDUjD86m7sDLB8a1855QjtDfk1TzadJQoqSVy9vOxS-PgdKsLIv81v8ceGxonAkSv6wfpO_7EG_YI1iolRZM7vzECdycMnTTerPaRboorxOOWR6pZfdbX-9OrNrCWY1MK604F-qLfCWL0D/s1600-h/Photo-0127.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5329309405770237314" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 240px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDUjD86m7sDLB8a1855QjtDfk1TzadJQoqSVy9vOxS-PgdKsLIv81v8ceGxonAkSv6wfpO_7EG_YI1iolRZM7vzECdycMnTTerPaRboorxOOWR6pZfdbX-9OrNrCWY1MK604F-qLfCWL0D/s320/Photo-0127.jpg" border="0" /></a> </div><div><em>View of Dubai Marina from the Palm</em><br /><div><div><div></div></div></div></div>Discovering Mhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02529618268788605646noreply@blogger.com1